Headline: Santa hands out boobs in old ladies’ stockings.

(would make a very good headline)

This time of year is my favorite. Always has been and always will be. Its a bit different this year.

Okay, its different in the way that the Louis Vuitton purse I just got from the Thrift shop is a total STEAL and yeah… the scuffs, but I know how to polished those, No probs!, occurs as brand spankin’ new.

Christmas music plays loud in the background, the candles lit give off cinnamon and spice and warmth, the left-over strips of Christmas paper lay in piles on the floor, and the dregs of cold tea …not worth the sip… sits waiting, slippered feet stretch out on the coffee table taking a needed break, Happy Gilmore Kitty from Hell, crumples and cuddles up inside the shoe box of wrapping scraps, “awe” iSNAP!, while ringed fingers browse online for those last gifts, egifts – aren’t they the best! and, and the songs and the vids bring back some old, …very old, Christmas memories…

I was a first grader and it was raining. (Christmas was usually rainy.) We had to perform for all the parents and the entire school and I was shy. But I had grown tall enough to finally, finally fit into mybigsistersmaxidress! The dress I had wanted for YEARS, secretly of course! It was a little long, but it was mine now! I couldn’t wait to wear it!

It had a beautiful white top part and a long, very long black dress part with tiny white lace on the bottom and red ribbons. It was mine and I knew I’d be beautiful, SO Beautiful!

It was the dress. I don’t remember much about the rest of the night, but that dress made me feel big and wonderful and I wore it proudly that Christmas show, standing there with my barely healed broken arm and the rest of the first graders. ‘Look at me now, I’m the new owner of mybigsistersmaxidress!’ I loudly spoke out through my eyes to all the flashing cameras.

New. Looking at my life in a new way, a new perspective, new whatevs. So what do I look like to me, wearing the same skin, the same clothes, doing the same things every year, nothings changed, not that much and what’s different this time?

What I’m seeing is me, Me. Newly.

Me with Love, and Kindness and Tenderness. Loving me, all of me as I’ve not ever done. Making myself right, instead of wrong, giving me power and success and freedom to Be Me, everywhere, all the time!

What I’m creating is a new view of me, of who I am, seeing me fresh and radiant and loving life, filled with joy and inner beauty. I’ve taken a 6 month journey of self exploration, discovery, of treating myself with all those things I wanted deep down, like qualities missing from a relationship or just what I’ve been looking for and not finding.

Sexlessdetoxathon. Abstinence from sex, coffee and alcohol. (Coffee is the Big One!)

Its begun.

There are a few women jumpin’ on the wagon with me and we are out to create who we are, being powerful women, whole, complete and free to Be. Beautiful, Amazing, Loving, Tender and Kind, wearing our big girl panties.

This Christmas is different in that it is me, filling out myownbeautifulmaxidress and wearing it newly.

Spoil Alert: The package may still look the same on the outside. (No gift-wrap option, however I did hear Santa is handing out boobs for Christmas!)

the pleasure of living ~

The question hung in the air between them, like a cartoon cloud with the words in bold.
‘”Why did you marry my Dad?” There was pain and anger in his eyes as he looked at her with his fists at his sides.
She looked at him, love and tenderness sparkling in her smile as she said,” Oh honey, it was the War! All of us girls married the soldiers going off to War. We knew they wouldn’t make it! It was the least we could do, to carry on their name.” She smiled and opened her arms. He hesitated and walked in, wrapping his arms around her waist, burring his blond head in her apron. Bright teary green eyes looked up and he nodded. He finally understood why his Mom was so happy.
“Every day is a reminder of our freedom, because of what your Dad did. And I would dishonor him and his sacrifice, if I didn’t live my life as happy as I could and loving every minute of it!” She wiped tears off his face and kissed his forehead.
He was looking like his dad more every day, she had said, and that made it ok now. He would never know him, never see him, but he would live every day, with his Dad’s name and the love and respect his Mom had for the man of valor, going off to war. It was ok now, to smile, to laugh, to live.

Numero Uno… bite me!

It became clear to me when I was preparing for my second attempt at a mock presentation that I had a way that life occurs for me. I come in second.

I’m a middle child, I describe myself as being second to the last, and I always pass my tests the second time around. I have Second like its a Statement for my Life! Look Everyone, I’m a Second Place Winner! Yay!

Something that I have told my sons when they are feeling down is, ‘…and remember, you beat the millions!’

Thinking about that today while getting ready for my second mock attempt, I’m actually first! I just have a ‘second place’ occurring in how I view myself, and apart from being perfectly right and cool to keep that occurring, I am also powerful and can create how I will occur newly. Its a choice, and I may have millions of ways in which I can occur for myself.

Being present with my humanity and looking around me at all the people, who are living and breathing and walking and working and laughing and crying and loving and hating and the small people and the big people and the people who stink and the people who smell nice and the People….

They are all Firsts, and They all have beat the Millions, when it counted in the Game of LIFE, and how privileged we all are to be walking around and smiling and laughing and winking at the other people who are First, just like You and just like me! How Awesome is THAT?!

My View I choose is one that allows me to win at my game. I choose to be a Winner, to succeed at what I do today because I am already a number ONE human being!

Beautiful…

The balmy dense air touched my skin through my clothes. Clouds moved in thick light puffs across the dark starred sky, blocking. The night lanterns placed here and there dripped with moisture, heat and dimmed the large glass encasings, which brought a kind of romantic hue to the solitary night.

My gaze… appreciating the pink in the martini glass that rested on the low wide wicker arm, watching the tiny bug circle and circle the clear glass, avoiding the condensation.

Mirroring the hushed light of the late night, my mind deep in thought. The days before… behind.

Under the glimmer of dark, I listened to a group of young men, the table over. It was interesting and not. Almost, I piped in to add to the conversation, and …no. Let me, be.

Earlier,

Hello boys!

“We followed you out here where it’s cooler.”

Yes, it was simply unbearable in there!

“Hahaaa.”

As I sat long reclining on the cushion-less chair, my seat sore from the long drive of the day, I listened and relaxed and enjoyed.

The deep male voices and my pink raspberry martini. Soaking in the night, with me.

A date with me. For a blissful first moment of time, I wasn’t missing something. For a blissful moment, my alone became… beautiful.

 

Discovery in Reality

The little square of paper tore as the Girl held it between her fingers.  She purposefully walked to the center garbage can to be closer, pulled out the tiny swipe of alcohol and began rubbing her fingers with it.

I love your skirt, the Lady had said.

Something had pulled at the Girl. She had seen it in the stranger’s demeanor, her expression. Somehow she knew.

The opening was made. Chitchat. The Girl smiled and the kindness in the Lady’s eyes held hers and she shared her heart.

She shared why she was there. At the gas station. The emotion, the sadness, the overwhelming longing and mystery of discovering Why and When and How and WHY. The Girl, was alone.

The Lady was alone. There was kindness. Content. No, peace.

Do you want to have dinner with me? The Girl asked.

Okay. I’ll follow you. The Lady weighted.

The Girl, not knowing the area, drove here and there searching for a place. All the while, the Lady stayed just behind her.

Thoughts came and went, doubts, scenarios, questions until finally, the Girl found a place in an old hotel that was perfect.

They entered together and kind music carried them to the corner table. The Singer was gentle and sweet and his acoustic guitar soothed the empty bar.

After the Girl unloaded her emotional tirade of self discovery and frustration, the Lady shared her life.

70’s. Alone. 4 sons, 9 grandchildren, top Special Ed teacher in the state. The Lady told stories of her experience as a teacher. Her job was one of the highest drop out jobs, and yet here she was in her 70’s still teaching.

Compassion, tenderness, love. These, she said, were what she gave her students success. The Lady worked with severely emotionally traumatized children and rehabilitated them to be able to attend schools and grow up to have a relatively normal life. How she got through to them was compassion and being able to see to the heart of the child.

She spoke of a tall and very large Boy who had Autism, and wouldn’t do anything. Everyone was afraid of the Boy who, she described as resembling the Pillsbury Dough boy, would scream and throw tantrums and not do anything but stand off to the side, alone.

One day she went over and poked him.

He said, Why did you poke me?

Because I wanted to. She replied.

This went on for days and weeks. It became a game and before long, the Lady and the Boy were dodging each other so much, they were jumping.

Look! We are Dancing! The Lady said.

The Boy with size 16 shoes laughed and began dancing with her.

I’m Dancing! I’m Dancing! I can Dance!! The Boy exclaimed.

After that, the Boy was happy to be at school, be part of the class. That love and compassion shown him, made all the difference.

The Lady impressed on the Girl, No matter what you do in life, make time for compassion and love, for it is the language we all understand.

The Girl and the Lady walked away as friends with a shared understanding of love for others and at the same time, love for themselves.

The Singer, watched the two ladies who knew each other a long time. His voice followed them out as he sang his closing song, California Dreamin’.

 

 

for the red that looks grey

At times, in this ever changing mental/heart healing state of mind of mine, I am thrown into the grief of sad aloneness where my stores of literary feeling inspire,… I write. I have thought about why the feelings of joy and boundless energy keep me away from my mac, the ache and pain of the dying burrying heart bring me back to it.

There is rhyme and reason to it all, I just don’t get it yet. What I do understand is that my states of mind are my choice and I like it. This sad loneliness of the dying dramatically romantic, is an interesting choice today. I chose it all day long. I used to think I was a victim of my circumstance, that I got dealt the sorry hand and inevitable, my outcome. HA.

This is now. I feel miserable. choice. I feel sad. choice. I feel grey. choice. Feed it cause I like it. Do I want to step into happy joy joy, No, I just want to stay here in my pathetic woe to me, poor me, boo me. If feels great!! Epiphany: I’m happy feeling unhappy.

Do I bring myself out of this smooth ache of the bleeding grey? Yes. Simply, a choice!

Snap! Happy Love Joy Comfort Pounding Vibrant Heart Beat Smile Peace Twinkle Red Wink Yay!

I have a bright spot of happy to step into. Its in this perfect place, the glorious colorful garden of my mind and I can stay here all day if I want to. I think I will. Atleast for the rest of the day, and tomorrow?

I think I’ll attract positive energy, output and in, richly effect my surroundings, the people who meet me, the people who know me as I am, the people who know me as I used to be. Okay.

Its beautiful, this red that is red. And this is where I should stay…

#cryingwithpinky

The rain had been coming down in sheets and we were confined inside. Wrapped in my throw, I pulled out my laptop to begin perusing the blogs, emails, while my kids rough-housed on my bed in the other room. The calm at my table was broken by an overwhelming flow of tears burning the blanket in my hands. I was not ok.

The news that my ex was disputing property rents, which actually helped us make it through each month, was a shock, and I was faced with how the hell am I going to make it one more month?!! I was strapped, completely strapped and I still wasn’t divorced! “I am so alone” I bawled.

This was not the only time I found myself in this situation. I seemed to have been here before…

Earlier in the day I had been wrapping my head around the pattern I had noticed. It had nothing to do with finances, actually it had everything to do with love. I was questioning why I was going through my typical relationship #fagetaboutit mental monologue. Was it really because the guy just isn’t interested in me anymore, or something else? It had been… almost 2 months. Yeah, it was time to pull away. Why!?

What made me want to pull out after this long of investing and really liking the guy? Okay, he did say some things that had me question if he really was interested in me, and yes, I still needed to have that “talk” but did he actually say, Babe, I’m not interested in you anymore? No.

I called my life-coach, who said the same thing. Okay, the game’s not over yet deary! However, I still was wondering why this pattern… why did I invest in recon, get my heart there, then mission abort? It did not make sense, and I wanted a relationship, I really liked this guy!

Analyzing patterns was a typical thing inside my brain. I wanted perfection, to be whole, for a new relationship.

It had something to do with feeling alone. Alone, I did very well! I was alone in college, before that even! I was alone in my marriage, my long long marriage, I am alone now…

‘I can do Alone beautifully!’ I told my coach. But what I didn’t want was to BE alone. I didn’t want to feel alone. I wanted to feel loved, to know someone, somewhere, loved me and thought of me and was interested in me, the actual me, not just the physical side, which is of course great as well!

This interesting mental dialogue  was difficult to face. I had developed a very tough exterior, so tough that complements didn’t land on me. I had a problem receiving acknowledgment, praise. This was part of it too. Somewhere along my crazy life, I developed an ‘I am not loved’ way to be. It worked perfectly. Attached to that was probably, I am alone. So with “I am not loved, I’m alone” girl, I made my life a living source of powerful strength and in there was the shield of unlovability and that Sucks! That Sucks right there!

Peel away another layer of that onion Sweetheart!  Still didn’t have the answer, but at least I was on to something. For everything else, the silver lining always comes with the pink rainbow in the morning and I could smile.

Mr. Wrong is Not a pussy!

It was Mr. Right, in Mr. Wrong’s body.

He was 50, not my normal date range, but ok. Actually I didn’t know it was a date to begin with. I understood we were meeting to talk business. Nope! Well, that too I guess.

I had a great time, and I think he did as well, but on some level we did not click.

Okay, he wasn’t Mr. R but he had a lot of the characteristics that fit my profile and in my history, that’s a huge step of improvement!

Granted, I’ve only been learning how to date for less than 18 months, and I’d consider I’m still new at this. I’m sure I said odd things and may have turned people off, but you know what, that is who I am, and fortunately for me, they’ve all been clearly Mr. Wrongs.

This guy however was different. I won’t go into details, but really I came away with,  “finally I’ve dated someone who is NOT a pussy!”

The great thing is that I have come far in my healing process to be able to date someone who fits my profile of manly-man gentleman warrior instead of guys who I’d consider my bro or less pussies, knowing there could never be anything further.

Its the recovery time I needed. Go out with non-threatening guys, because they won’t break your heart. It worked. Except my heart was not free to be broken, it was being mended. I needed to take that time before being able to really open up the possibility of a new relationship with someone. 

Huge steps! I spoke with my life coach who had encouraged me, “If you want a new man in your life, clear some space in your heart. Make space in the closet! And be open for when it happens. ”

I did. The space is cleared and I was able to attract the right kind of MAN. Its a good thing.

Now I know, only forward from here!

timeless

Present and the present again and again

Love

Can one truly know

The shape the size the quality

Maybe there is no measure nor real gauge

the vastness and beauty the treasure

Love speaks truth

Truth

To the eyes of the heart

where there is grace and peace and compassion

For what is real and what is now

Heart

Truth cannot hide within

the deep of the heart

True is too great and must shine to Be

and welcome what will Be

The joy and goodness of Love

The generosity of Truth

Great and without conquer nor containment

of that which speaks out

the past and the present again and again

~ K. Gibson

August 31, 2013

Lovey